


Worship

by SpaceShipRocket



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22188772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceShipRocket/pseuds/SpaceShipRocket
Summary: Getting fucked from Aziraphales point of view.The first time I've tried writing like this.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 102





	Worship

He's all coiled muscle, even with those thin hips of his. And he's using them - oh god how he's using them! - to completely obliterate my higher thinking.

Every bounce sends rapture coursing though my body, and I cry out his name as he snarls and adjusts.  
Demons have needs, he had said. Sin is something they need. And I had immediately jumped to the task.  
Not that I'm complaining.

He's creating stars with the way he undulates inside me, my cock twitching as another dry orgasm is ripped from my abused corporation. Any more of this and I fear I shall become nothing more than a toy.

Oh, who am I kidding? I would gladly be his. I would praise him with all of my grace, whenever he wished for it.  
To some extent, I already worship him.  
Crying out like this - in my angelic tones - it's nothing short of blasphemy. No other being could hear me now and say my whole being was for the Lord.  
For my Lord right now is Crowley.

Crowley, Crowley - my mind tumbles, thinking of nothing but. I'm unsure of how much time has passed. It could have been mere hours, days, weeks.  
It doesn't matter.  
I told him I was here for his every whim, and so, here I am. I've been on my knees, praising him more than I ever remember doing for anyone before.  
He's taking me apart, piece by piece. I suppose he always has been. His tongue, his cock, his fingers. I need them in me as badly as humans breathe.

And he gives. He is giving. With whatever effort my overtaxed body has created, he's there. I can't count the number of times I've squirted. Came.  
I'm shaking apart in his hold as he claims me. How did I deny us both this for millenia, I wonder, screaming.  
I am his. His. His alone. I will give him all of me, always. He doesn't even need to ask. He's pulling me apart and holding me together, and it's a heavenly kind of torture.

My higher thinking functions start to jumble as my eyes cross. There is nothing but this. This is why I was created, why I am.  
The feeling of his cock ramming into my cervix makes my thigh muscles shake as my abused pussy squirts again.  
The wetness flows over him, and he grabs my hips to hold me down, to force his cum as deep as it can go. It burns, demonic in its nature, and keeps coming.

He's fucked me for so long, I'm truly unsure of how long he will fill me for. It floods my womb, and then starts to spill out my vagina, like a waterfall.  
He holds me up while the burn shakes another orgasm from me. My human form can't stand anymore - it can't breathe. Too much, it's too much, I cry and he wraps me into his hold.  
He's kind words and caring gestures. He stays inside as his cock continues twitching, spilling. If he wished for it - for his desires are more important than mine - I would swell with his child.

I can feel the shape of my effort, due to the burning. Eventually, blessedly, he softens and pulls out, with an obscene pop. He's breached me - I know that - but the sound makes it more real.  
It almost feels like I'm pissing myself, honestly. It gushes out, and he hushes me though it all.  
I must look such a mess.

I breathe in hiccuping, heaving sobs, and he hushes me. He's praising me with words, telling me how well I've done to take so much. He's piecing me back together with gentle, guiding hands.  
When I come down, he's frowning. Tells me he's sorry, that he's been holding his urges for so long. I shake my head and tell him it was marvelous, that I'm here for him.

That I want to again.

He stares, in that unblinking way of his, before a grin splits his face. He wraps me in blankets and his arms and I rest my head on his chest.  
Anything you'd like, he says. I merely hum. I love him. He has my entire being in his hands.  
He can feast on me whenever he requires.

I say as much, to his shock. He shakes and tears gather - and I didn't know he could cry. I've never seen him cry.  
He curls around me tighter and kisses me, whispering his own adoration back at me and I feel my spirit soar. He loves me. I love him. Our own side.

And as I start to slip into slumber, I am safe.

I am home.


End file.
